Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2007 05:35:48 -0600
From: FD Campbell
Subject: High School Wrestler
This story contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts of boys
discovering their sexuality with each other and their coach. All legal
disclaimers apply. If this topic offends you, do not read any further; and
ask yourself why you are at this site.
If you are under the age of 18 (21 in some areas) and too young to
be reading such material or if you are in a locale or country where it is
not legal to read such material then please leave immediately and come back
when it is legal for you to do so. We'll be glad to have you back.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or
locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental, although
it may be loosely based on real events and people.
All characters in the story are eighteen years of age or older,
although they can be of any age in the reader's mind. A boy of eighteen
can, only yesterday, be seventeen.
If you meet the criteria then read on, enjoy, and kindly let me
know what you think. On the sites that provide for you to rate the stories
or leave comments, I value your thoughts and opinion; I would also like to
hear from you personally. Personal stories and accounts of your own similar
experiences are always welcome. Contact me at Peterbilt222@hotmail.com
High School Wrestler
(Revised)
I arrived at the bed and breakfast about four o'clock in the
afternoon. When I went inside there was a young man at the front desk,
obviously distressed. He was more a boy, at least in the face, but his
muscular body belied his youthful looks.
"I'm sorry, young man, I can't let you have a room. I'm afraid it would be
against the law," the elderly lady was saying in her best kindly tone. The
boy looked like he was about to explode, or cry. The woman looked at me as
if to dismiss the boy.
He stepped aside but didn't leave the lobby. I moved to the counter. "Jack
Conroy, I have a reservation," I said.
The boy stepped over to look out the window, obviously very frustrated and
trying to decide what to do next. I scanned the view; took it all in with
one breathless look. He had a bubble-butt stuffed in his jeans that
extended down around his thick thighs that fairly bulged at the worn
denim. Even his calves looked thick inside the snug-fitting material. From
his waist, his upper body exploded into a heavy athletic jacket and his
bull-neck stuck out of the collar. As I was signing in he looked around
with a look of desperation and anguish. I didn't think I should get
involved. I wanted to. Damn, how I wanted to get involved with the kid. I
put my credit card back in my wallet and picked up my bag. As I headed down
the short hallway to the elevator I heard him speak again.
"Ma'am, I drove all night to get here for a wrestling match. I need a place
to get some sleep. I'm eighteen, I swear it."
"I'm sorry," she said.
In that moment I knew I had to get involved. I turned around and went back
to the desk.
"I couldn't help over-hearing. What's the problem?" I asked.
The boy sighed and took his hands out of his jacket pockets. He had big
hands and thick, muscular fingers that would feel at home around a football
or a bat or a basketball; and I went on to think, a girl's tits, or even a
big cock.
"I'm here for a wrestling meet over at the high school and I can't get a
room because she doesn't believe I'm eighteen," he said.
"Your coach should have taken care of that," the woman said.
"He did take care of it. He made a reservation for us."
"That was assuming he would be with you," she said.
"My coach had a heart attack last night," he told her. Then he turned to
me. "But he made me come anyway. I drove off and left my wallet at home so
I've got no ID."
"What about your parents?" I asked. "Aren't they here?"
He laughed, a sour laugh. "My parents don't get involved much in my life,"
he said. "This is my last chance to take state," he went on. "I drove all
night...and now I'm screwed." But then he set his jaw. "No, I'm not
screwed," he said, more to himself than to us. "I'm going to wrestle
tomorrow, one way or the other." And with that, he started to leave.
"You're welcome to come in and have breakfast downstairs in the morning,"
she said kindly. "It won't cost you anything."
"Can't you change the reservation?" I asked the woman quietly.
"I simply can't let a room to anyone under eighteen. It's against the law,"
she said.
"No, I mean put it in my name," I said.
"I'm sorry, but I just freed up the room and it's been taken," she said.
"That quick?"
"We have a waiting list, it only takes a click of a button on the
computer," she said.
"Thanks anyway, mister. I'll find someplace to sleep; a filling station, or
a doorway," the boy said as he leaned down to pick up his oversized gym
bag.
"Change my reservation to two people," I told the woman. I tuned to the
boy. "You can share my room." He straightened with a blank look on his
face.
"That room has only one bed," the woman pointed out.
"That's okay...I...I can sleep on the floor," the boy said in a grateful
tone.
"We'll make do," I assured her. "Get your stuff," I said to the boy.
"I've got everything right here," he said, shouldering his gym bag.
In the elevator he kept his bag shouldered and I saw how wide his shoulders
were. I also got the chance to get a look at him from the front; his
powerful thighs bulging inside his worn jeans, and the way the waist of his
jeans fit loosely around his waist. He had one of those athletic butts that
held his jeans up without a belt. His jacket was unsnapped to reveal his
flat stomach inside a T-shirt and the cleavage and the inside curvature of
his thick pecs.
"I don't know why you're doing this, but I sure appreciate it," he said. "I
promise I won't get in your way."
"There aren't any wrestling fans at your school who might have come to
watch you? Not even a girlfriend?" I asked.
"Actually, there's not even a wrestling team," he said. "I'm it, except for
a freshman kid, but he can't compete here. Coach Davis took it upon himself
to work with me; said I had a lot of potential. I guess we'll see about
that tomorrow. As for a girlfriend, I date now and then, but girlfriends
just don't seem to work out for me, for reasons we won't go into," he said.
"Well, I get the impression that you're not going to disappoint your
coach," I said with a smile.
"It's a chance for a partial scholarship, too," he said.
At the room I unlocked it and held it open. The boy walked in and turned
around. "By the way, I'm Zack Mitchell."
"Jack Conroy," I said and we shook hands. He had a powerful grip and his
hand wrapped all the way around mine. "Good grip," I said, rubbing my
hand. "You play football, too," I said, noting the front of his jacket.
"Yes, but football scholarships are unheard of at my school." He set his
bag in the corner, out of the way. I unpacked my stuff and laid the papers
and PE record books on the drop-leaf table.
"Are you a teacher?" he asked.
"History and PE," I said. "I brought the PE record books to update them and
some papers to grade. I also fill in coaching when they need me."
"Hey, maybe you could be my coach tomorrow...that is, if you have time," he
said.
"I don't know much about wrestling, except unlike you, I usually got beat,"
I said.
"I've lost my share of matches," he said as he dug some money out of his
jeans pocket. He was counting it.
"Did you loose some money?" I asked.
"Naw, just counting it, to decide where and what I'm going to eat."
"There's a good restaurant across the street," I said.
"I already checked it out, I can't afford that place," he said.
"Put your money away," I told him. "Come on, let's go across the street and
get something to eat."
"I can't let you do that, Mr. Conroy," he said.
"A big thick steak and a good night's sleep could make all the difference
tomorrow," I said.
"You sound like my coach," he said with a handsome grin.
"Well, you don't have one, so let's say I am, for now," I said. "Besides, I
would like the company."
I'd pushed the right button. He wanted to win that match awfully bad. There
was obviously a lot at stake for him. We walked over to the restaurant and
were seated at a table near the fireplace. I noticed Zack scanning the side
of the menu where the prices were cheaper. I took his menu from him and
ordered for both of us; steak, baked potato and salad, and a large glass of
milk for him. He didn't object. Over dinner we talked mostly about Zack. He
didn't seem to like talking about himself but I kept steering the
conversation back to him. I thought he needed to be built up. It needed to
be about him. I learned that he was a senior from a small school with
parents that were uninvolved in his life and I got the impression he was
sort of a loner, with his own ideas about what he was going to do with his
life.
"I can't believe there aren't a bunch of girls here cheering you on," I
said.
"Like I said, we don't have a wrestling program. I pretty much stand
alone."
"Yeah, I'll bet you do stand alone among your peers," I said. "And I'll bet
the girls don't have any problem picking you out of a crowd."
"I do okay, I guess, considering," he said shyly.
"You said there was no girlfriend. I never heard of a jock not having a
girlfriend."
"That just never works out. I can't lead the same life as the other jocks;
drinking and partying. I don't have the rest of a team to depend on like
football players. It's just me and the other guy. I have to give everything
I've got because there's nobody else there to give anything."
"You've got a very mature, philosophic outlook," I said.
He shrugged. "I just do what I have to do."
"Need anything else to eat?" I asked, as he was finishing up his dinner.
"No, I've had plenty."
"We'll come back over here for breakfast," I said. "The lady was kind
enough to offer but the breakfast at the inn isn't for athletes."
"I don't eat breakfast before a match," he said. "Just some juice right
before the match."
"What time is your match?"
"One at eight-thirty, the last one at two."
I smiled. "There is absolute no doubt in your tone that you will wrestle at
two, is there?" I observed.
"I'm not just going to wrestle, I'm going to take the title," he said. It
wasn't brag and it wasn't a self-serving pep talk. He was confident.
"Well, let's get back so you can get to bed," I said. "That other guy is
probably already in bed."
"Or, maybe he's got a girlfriend who's keeping him up late," Zack mused.
Outside, Zack hesitated in his tracks, as if he didn't know where he
was. "I'm going to go for a walk," he said. "If I get cold then take a hot
shower, I sleep like a log." I stepped toward him. "I, uh...no offense, but
I'd like to go by myself."
"Sure. No problem. I'll leave the door unlocked."
Back at the B&B I went to the breakfast room for some coffee to take
upstairs. I was a little concerned about letting Zack go off by himself at
that hour. The town was known for its artsy people, the majority of which
were gay, and I didn't want anything like that to happen to him--at least
not with anyone else. But he was eighteen, old enough that I shouldn't be
worrying about him.
I stripped down to my shorts and began to mentally bolster my defenses. I
wanted this kid so bad! He was a stranger to man-to-man sex...I knew
it...but I was ready to change that. Even if he could be had, I couldn't
make a move the night before his wrestling match. I sat in my shorts and
T-shirt and graded history exams and sipped coffee. Several times, I got up
and went to the window to look for Zack. He was gone longer than I'd
expected. I began to worry. Not that he was mine to worry about, but I was
there and nobody else was, so I guess he was mine to worry about. I went
back to the table and started on the PE record books.
Zack came in a few minutes later. He shed his heavy jacket and hung it
up. He was just as broad without it. Except for his suppleness, he might
have been a bodybuilder, but just from the way he moved you could tell his
muscles weren't for show.
"Okay if I shower, Mr. Conroy?" he asked.
"Yeah, you don't have to ask," I said.
Like any jock, he was completely at ease with his body around other males
and he readily undid his belt and jeans as he stepped out of his shoes. He
shoved his jeans down and hung them up. The view from the back, in his
briefs, was awesome. He turned, peeling off his T-shirt, and tossed it in
the corner with his bag. I looked as casually and discreetly as I could. He
was as drop-dead built as he was drop-dead good-looking. He wore his briefs
into the bathroom and closed the door. I noticed that he forgot to take any
clean clothes in with him. I toyed with the pages in the PE record book and
waited. He took a long shower. He came out drying his hair but slipped the
towel around his waist before I got a look. He looked in the dresser
drawers and found a blanket and extra pillows. He dropped the pillow and
spread the blanket out on the floor.
"You can't sleep on the floor," I said.
"I won't fit on that little love seat," he said.
"Take the bed," I said.
He stared at me for a second. "I'm not going to take your bed," he said
firmly. "Where will you sleep?"
"I can sleep standing up, now that I've had a hot shower," I said. "No. The
floor is fine," he insisted.
"Look, you could be giving up your edge by sleeping on the floor," I
said. "Do you think that other guy is sleeping on the floor?"
"No, he's from here," he said.
"Then don't argue with me. Take the bed."
"Yes, sir."
He took off the towel and hung it on the doorknob. I don't think he had any
idea how beautiful he was, naked. For him, his body was a tool...his stock
in trade...something he had to have and maintain to do his job. His
looks...well, that was an added bonus that he wasn't even aware of. He
hesitated with one knee in the edge of the mattress, his back to me, his
tight, round butt muscles separated beautifully.
"I hope its okay, Mr. Conroy; I sleep naked," he said.
"It's not going to bother me," I said.
"Yeah, I guess you're used to seeing naked guys in the locker room," he
remarked as he crawled into bed. He pulled just the sheet up over
himself. It was quiet and I tried not to make even the slightest noise
turning the pages of the PE record book.
I finished my barely-warm coffee and turned out the lamp. The room was
plunged into a gentle darkness with only the light from the streetlamp
outside. I ached all through from wanting to crawl into bed with the boy
but I didn't dare. I slept naked, too, and Zack made me comfortable taking
off my shorts. I took the pillow and blanket that he'd found and stretched
out on the floor.
"This is not right."
I raised my head at his voice. I thought he was asleep. "What's not right?"
I asked.
"This is your room and you're sleeping on the floor."
"Go to sleep," I said.
"I can't," he said as he threw the sheet off. "I'll sleep on the floor."
"You know, you shouldn't argue with the guy who feeds you and gives you a
place to sleep," I said as I sat up. He was standing beside the bed in all
his wonderful, naked glory with his big, thick cock hanging out over a pair
of heavy balls. How could he possibly know that I wanted to devour
him. "It's not up for discussion. Get back in bed," I said.
"No. I mean, okay, but only if...well, I'm not asking you to sleep with me
or anything....nothing funny like that, but....the bed's big enough for
both of us...it won't bother me if it don't bother you," he said.
My heart was thumping so hard in my chest I was sure he could hear it. This
was a dream! I had the most gorgeous, hung, built teenager I'd ever seen in
my room, naked as all get-out, asking me to sleep with him!
"All right," I said as I stood up. "If that's going to make you get some
sleep, it won't bother me either." He crawled back in bed, scooted over to
make room, and I crawled in beside him. Together we brought the sheet up
and laid back.
"I'm not used to sleeping with anybody, so if I take up more than my share
of the bed, just kick me," he said as he turned onto his side with his back
to me.
I turned on my side, facing away from him. I had to, in order to keep my
hands off of him. I wasn't going to get much sleep. It was a fitful night
for me. I awoke several times to just lie there and watch the boy sleep,
and fight to keep from touching him. I was glad to see morning come,
although it brought a whole new set of problems. I had Zack running around
naked, showering again, drying off, getting dressed and the mere sight of
his muscular body had me all tight inside.
"You said just orange juice?" I asked.
"Yes."
"I'll go down to the breakfast room and get you some."
Zack was surprised when he saw that I was going with him to the school.
"You don't have to do that," he said.
"I wouldn't miss it. Besides, you need a coach in your corner."
"Thanks."
"I just wish it could be your real coach," I said.
"Don't worry, I'm taking the trophy back to him," he said.
We walked the short distance to the school and took care of the change in
registration. I explained about his coach not being able to attend, that I
was simply there with him, but the official named me as his coach. I didn't
know what I was supposed to do but when Zack didn't invite me to come along
with him to change, I sat on the bleachers to wait for him. I felt the
tightness inside again when Zack came out of the locker room in his
wrestling tights. The bulge of his manhood looked like he had a small
anaconda curled up inside his jockstrap. He would be a formidable opponent
on that count alone, I thought. I saw other wrestlers discreetly checking
him out; more than just his size and muscularity. They were checking him
out! If I were them, I would be worried. Watching the young athletes strut
around, I had to wonder why they wore the things that revealed all their
manly attributes so. Maybe they were designed specifically to psyche the
other guy out.
Zack was a gifted athlete. If his strength and quickness on the mat was any
indication he must be an outstanding football player. Unlike the other
wrestlers, he was also nicely tanned which added to the mystique of his
powerful muscles. He quickly had his own cheering section, which seemed to
surprise and embarrass him, made up of people who didn't know him. I
suspected that most of the girls in his cheering section were cheering his
good looks and his tanned, rippling muscles...even the very prominent bulge
in his wrestling tights...more than his wrestling ability. He beat his
opponent handily. He took the victory with great humility and grace. The
bulge in his tights seemed fuller now, but maybe it was my imagination gone
wild.
"Great job," I said and told him how pleased I was when he pulled me in for
a tight hug after his victory.
"Thanks, Coach."
If he only knew what he did to me.
"So, what happens now?" I asked.
"I grab an early lunch, lie down for a couple of hours and do it again, at
2:00," he said. "See that guy in the maroon tights?" he asked, looking
across the gym. "He's going to end up being my competition."
I looked around. The guy was big, and muscular, but not as ripped as
Zack. He was more bulk than definition. He looked older, but that was
because he had a lot of hair on his legs and hair on his chest.
"He also knows you're going to be his competition," I said.
He smiled with appreciation. I waited till he changed then we walked
back. I took him to the restaurant across the street for an early lunch. He
tried to pay for it but I made him put his money away.
"You can't keep doing this," he said. "You didn't take me to raise."
"I'm in this to the end. And since I'm officially your coach, we do it my
way," I said.
When we got back to the room, Zack stripped down to his shorts and
stretched out on the bed to take a nap. I decided to leave him alone. I
thought he would be more at ease having the room to himself, and besides, I
was having a tough time keeping myself in check. I went for a walk through
the town, stopping to look in the shop windows, trying to pass the time. My
mind was churning out a plan that I didn't know if I could carry out. Zack
hadn't indicted one way or the other what his plans were after his final
match; whether he was heading home or not. I had to figure out some way to
convince him to stay. Beyond that I had only my courage to worry about. I
went back to bed and breakfast and let myself in the room quietly as I
could. Zack was sprawled out on the bed on his stomach, his legs spread
apart and his arms folded up over his head. He was sleeping soundly, like a
boy at peace. I stood and watched him sleep, my eyes raking over the form
of his muscular body, from his wide shoulders down to his trim waist and
then the flare of his thighs. I gazed at his tight round butt that filled
his shorts so nicely. God, I wanted this kid!
I went back to grading some papers. They were essays on history so it was a
tedious job. I was impressed with some of the students work. One boy, in
particular, wrote extensively about the Roman emperors and their
boy-lovers. I made a note to check the boy out more carefully.
Zack came awake, slowly turning onto his back. He stretched, his muscles
rippling. "Where'd you go?" he asked. "You didn't have to leave."
"For a walk. I thought you might sleep better if you had the room to
yourself."
"I didn't intend to run you out of you room," he said.
"You didn't, I left voluntarily," I said. "How're you feeling?" I
asked. "Are you getting butterflies?"
"No. Coach Bodine taught me how to channel the nerves and the jitters into
determination. It's a matter of will," he said.
I smiled. "That poor guy doesn't stand a chance against you," I remarked.
"No less than I stand against him," he said. "Wrestlers, by their nature
and training, are very strong willed. That works only if you have the
strength to back it up. You saw him."
"Yeah, but I'll bet he saw you, too. Don't underestimate yourself."
"I'm not. But I don't underestimate my opponent, either. I'm just
recognizing his strengths."
"Recognize his weaknesses," I said.
He smiled. "You would make a great coach."
I laughed. "Yeah, if I knew anything about wrestling."
Zack glanced at his watch.
"It's not time yet," I said. We sat and talked some more, I think to get
Zack's mind off the upcoming match. Studly macho as he tried to be...and he
was that....he was still nervous. I learned just how much he thought of his
coach; how worried he was about him. He loved him in the way a boy loves a
man who has time for him. Coach Bodine seemed to fill the void that the
boy's father left. I got the impression that Zack was lonely, searching for
something to fill a void that he hadn't even recognized yet. I was
surprised at his social life, or lack thereof, but that was of his own
making. He was too focused on his future to enjoy the present. It was sad,
in a way.
"I don't know how I can ever repay you for everything you've done for me,"
he said.
"I'll think of something," I said with a sly grin.
"I think I'll go down and call home; check and see how coach is doing," he
said.
"Why don't you wait till after your match, when you've got good news for
him."
"Yeah...good idea," he said.
When he went to the bathroom I dug out the tube of lube and slipped it
under the mattress; hopeful thinking, for later. We walked over to the
school together. I felt like a dad, big brother and coach all rolled into
one. We parted at the door and he headed for the locker room to change.
"Wish me luck," he said over his shoulder.
"The other guy is the one who needs the luck," I said.
In the short time I'd known him, I found myself bursting with pride for the
boy as I watched him on the mats. Zack easily and swiftly moved to the
final encounter till it was him and the big guy in the maroon tights
matched up together. They were more evenly matched than they looked. The
other guy was bigger, bulkier, but Zack was solid muscle, ripped and
quick. It wasn't an easy win, but he took the title. He cried when the
referee held his hand up in victory. The other guy cried too, but he gave
Zack a huge bear hug and shook his hand. They awarded Zack the trophy and
put the medal around his neck on the spot. He came over to me, smiling
through is tears.
"I took state," he said with pride.
"You sure as hell did," I said, beaming with pride as I pulled him into a
tight bear hug. He hugged me back. "You're coach is going to be so damned
proud of you."
It took him awhile to get through the congratulations of the fans and the
open ogling of a lot of girls who boldly came up to him to feel his muscles
and kiss him on the cheek.
"I don't even know these girls," he remarked to me under his breath.
"It obviously wouldn't take much to get to know them," I said. He finally
escaped to the locker room. I sat down on the bleachers to wait on him.
"Your boy did an outstanding job," a man told me, putting out his hand.
"Thanks. He worked his butt off for it," I said.
The other wrestler came up to me and put out his hand. "You've both got my
congratulations," he said. "Not bragging, but I wasn't easy to beat, but he
did it."
"I wouldn't have bet either way," I said. It felt good that people thought
Zack and I were together and it made me feel closer to him.
Zack could barely contain himself as we walked back to the bed and
breakfast. He was so happy he actually jumped in the air a couple of times.
"Mann, I just nailed my future," he said. "I can go to college now."
"What're you going to study?" I asked.
He smiled. "Sports medicine."
"You'll be good at it."
Back in the room, Zack set his trophy on the table. "I think I'll go down
and call the coach now."
"Use that phone," I said.
"Naw, I can use the pay phone."
"Make your call," I said gruffly, nodding to the phone. I'd never seen
anybody so excited as he dialed the number. Since Zack didn't take off
right after the meet, and he was calling his coach, I was counting on him
staying another night, and if he did I wanted to be ready. I left him alone
and went into the bathroom to get myself prepared. I could hear his
conversation. He had called the hospital.
"Can you tell me if Coach Bodine is still a patient there and how he's
doing? This is one of his students." There was a long wait and then someone
else was on the line. He had to go through it again, and another wait. Then
I heard him say, "I...I see...well...thanks."
"How's he doing?" I asked as I came out of the bathroom. Then I saw the
color drained from his face. His shoulders slumped and the phone still
dangled at his side. "Zack, what's the matter?"
"Coach died." He could hardly get the words out.
"Oh, Geezusss." I went over and took the phone from him and put it back in
the cradle. He slumped down the side of the bed to the floor and sat with
his knees cocked up and his arms folded across his knees. His head hung
down and I saw his shoulders shake as he began to sob. I knelt on one knee
beside him. "I'm so damned sorry, Zack," I said, putting my hand on his
shoulder.
He cried like a baby, unashamedly, sobbing so hard it must have hurt. I put
my arm around his shoulder. "Zack, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you to
wait to call him."
"He died while I was wrestling. How scary is that? He was the only man in
the world I could talk to," he sobbed. "He was the only person in the world
who gave a damn."
"I give a damn, Zack," I said. "Not like your coach...I haven't known you
that long...but I give a damn, and I'm hurting right now for you." He cried
and I held him till there were no more tears; till he sort of twisted away
from me. I removed my arm. "He must have been an exceptional coach," I
said. "You obviously admired him very much."
"It went a lot deeper than that," he said, but his voice trailed off, as if
there was something else that he wasn't going to say. "He knew everything
there was to know about me. More than I knew about myself, sometimes."
"Just be glad you had him when you did, at a time in your life when you
needed him," I said.
"If I hadn't had him in my life, I...I wouldn't be here...I wouldn't be
anywhere. He listened to all my problems and he was smart enough to know
when he ought to say something, sometimes he didn't say anything at all, he
just let me talk and get it out."
"He would have been proud of you today," I said. It was hard to think of
anything to say.
"He would have been proud of me no matter what. He was proud when I got a
move just right, when I pinned him. He was...still proud of me, even
though..." He stopped short again and I knew instinctively that it was why
he'd come up short a moment ago. I didn't say anything. I wanted to
encourage him to go on, but I thought my silence was the encouragement he
needed. "You're a lot like Coach Bodine," he went on with a wry grin. "You
just let me talk."
"It's not up to me to drag it out of you," he said.
"Coach never did that either. He let me come clean about everything on my
own, even when he knew pretty much what I was going to say. He just
listened. Then he always put his arms around me and let me know it was
okay. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. But he let me know
everything was okay...between me and him."
Whatever it was that wouldn't come out, he wanted to tell me. He wanted to
get it out, and he was so close. I wished there were something I could say
to bring it out of him because I thought he felt he was alone with
everything now that his coach had died.
"Well, I guess I should be taking off," he said as he got to his feet.
"You don't have to leave," I said as I stood up as well, with panic in my
guts; I didn't want this young stud to walk out of my room. "If there's
nothing pressing for you to get back to, why don't you stick around; we'll
go over to the hotel and have a celebration dinner. With desert this time."
He was hesitant; nervously so. I didn't want him to run away from whatever
was bothering him.
"Zack, it's none of my business, but I really don't think you should be
driving back right now by yourself. I can tell your coach's death really
hit you hard. Why don't you stay, maybe talk it out some more," I said.
"I've imposed enough," he said.
I clasped my hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving away. "Let's get
one thing straight; you haven't imposed on me," I said sternly. "I've
enjoyed your company, and it's been a pleasure watching you wrestle."
"Well, I...I guess there's nothing I have to get home to," he said as he
sat on the edge of the bed.
"Good. Why don't you see what's on television while I grade some more
papers," I said.
"Won't the TV bother you?" he asked.
"No." I sat at the table with the stack of essays.
"What're you grading?" he asked.
"Essays on ancient history," I said.
"History is my favorite subject, except for wrestling," he said. "I
especially like reading about the Romans and the Greeks; they were both
very athletic races."
"I wish I had you in my class," I said. Then it struck me; an idea that
might pave the way for that which I had not yet found courage. I quickly
found the essay that the boy had written about the Roman Emperors and their
young male lovers and handed it to him, along with another essay, so it
wouldn't appear that I was targeting the one. "Here, maybe you would like
to read something my students have written," I said.
He laid one foot up on the edge of the bed and leaned back against the
headboard. He read the one essay and laid it aside then picked up the other
one. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye from time to try to glean
some reaction. There was none, except for deep interest in what he was
reading, and except for one time when he nodded to himself, as if he were
in agreement with the author.
"I've often thought it would've been great to live in those times, and be a
gladiator," he said as he finished reading.
"I don't many of them enjoyed a very long life," I said.
"The best ones did," he said. "The ones who became famous were treated
like gods."
"Well, from what I saw on the mats today, you would've been one of those
gods," I said.
"This is interesting, and well written, but he missed some of important
points," he said, handing the paper back to me.
"Like what?" I asked.
"I could write an entire essay on what he left out," he said.
With a sly grin I picked up a writing pad and pen and handed it to
him. "Tell me what he left out. I'll pass it on to him," I said.
Without hesitation, he took the pad and pen and leaned back against the
headboard with both legs on the bed, crossed at the ankles. He pondered for
a moment. "It won't be a complete essay, just filling in the blanks," he
said as he began to write. His thoughts flowed swiftly, for he seldom
lifted the pen, and even then, only for a brief moment to gather his
thoughts. He wrote for a long time, paused and added a brief paragraph then
read what he had written. He changed nothing, and handed it to me.
I read the first sentence and stopped. "Do you mind if I read it out loud?"
I asked.
"No, go ahead," he said as he lay back against the headboard again, his
muscular arms folded cross his broad chest.
I began to read, with great interest, and some surprise. I hadn't expected
the content to be so bold, or for it to be written so well.
"Relationships between two males in ancient Greece and Rome were quite
common, almost always involving an older man and a younger boy in his mid
to late teens, handsome and well built. Relationships between two older men
were not common and were frowned upon, and the submissive male especially
was looked down upon. Putting it plainly, to maintain one's masculinity in
such a relationship, one had to be the penetrator. The one submitting to
penetration--i.e., taking the woman's role--was seen as effeminate, whether
he was or not. This was not necessarily true in a relationship between an
older and younger man or boy. The older man was, and was accepted as, the
boy's mentor, his protector, and was seen more or less as his teacher in
things sexual, therefore the boy wasn't usually looked upon as being
effeminate for his part in the relationship, which was almost always
submissive, but simply a willing and eager student."
I paused and looked over at him. He was watching me, a trace of a smile on
his lips; or perhaps the smile was in his eyes. I read on.
"The Roman baths, the ruins of which we can tour today, were the focal
point of the Roman male social experience. Public nude bathing was the
norm, and the baths were constructed with corridors leading to private
rooms where men could meet young men, and vice versa. The
women--wives--were aware of their men's extra-curricular activities."
"The beset example of the pure homosexual relationship was of the Roman
Emperor Hadrian. He was considered to be bisexual but his love was
reserved for the youth Antinous, believed to be a teenager of sixteen or
seventeen. He took him into his household and took the boy with him on his
travels for long periods of time. It was on one of these travels that the
boy died; believed to have drowned. The Emperor was devastated, his
reaction to the youth's death excessive. He had statues of Antinous erected
throughout the empire, named a city in Egypt after him, and even had him
deified as the god he thought him to be. There was no general outrage from
the Roman populace."
"In Greek mythology, the gods were always extremely handsome and muscular
and of legendary endowment, to render them superior to mortal man and
desirable to both male and female suitors. This seemed to permeate down to
the human Greek society in general, where physical perfection and beauty,
especially in the male, was the benchmark. But it wasn't all brawn and no
brains. Like no other society in recent history, the goal of Greek
education was the attainment of male perfection--both physical and mental
perfection. This education took place in the gymnasium. The gymnasium was
the center of every Greek town, and served a far greater purpose than the
modern gym. The gymnasium was an elaborate structure with many rooms,
baths, and hallways decorated with all sorts of artwork, including statues
of gods and heroes. Philosophers, poets, and other intellectuals would come
together in these places. Boys and men would spend their days in both
intellectual and physical exercises, and it is assumed from the structure
of the gymnasiums, in sexual encounters. Youth weren't just valued for
their bodies, but also for their minds--their ability to reason and
debate. Academic competition was matched by physical, athletic
competition. Sports events and even the public Olympics were performed in
the nude. Public nudity was not at all uncommon. The body was something to
be proud of. It did not elicit the feelings of shame or modesty that many
feel or try to impose in modern society. Nudity seemed to be predominate
among males, however, sometimes to the exclusion of females, thus more
easily and comfortably promoting homosexuality between males. Most
athletic games in Greek towns, and especially the early Olympics, excluded
females, both as participants and spectators. Men were stationed
surrounding the towns to assure that no females were allowed in, thus
leaving the spectacles to the enjoyment of men and boys."
I glanced at him again and went on to read the last paragraph.
"In the soldiers' city of Sparta, it was not uncommon for a warrior to take
young recruit under his wing. He cared for him, trained him, and stood next
to him on the battlefield, where the two men bravely protected each
other. These relationships were both erotic and educational. Wrestling was
especially popular among the Greeks, as it matched one against the other,
where one was victorious and one the vanquished. It is generally believed
that the sport of wrestling emerged as the most popular of Greek athletics
because of the hard physical contact between two males, usually naked,
which contributed greatly to the enjoyment of the spectators and the
wrestlers alike."
I held the paper, gazing at it for a moment before I looked up at
him. "This is very good!" I said with great emphasis.
"The content doesn't bother you?" he asked.
"Not at all. You describe very well, how it was all woven into the fabric
of Roman and Greek culture," I said. "I want to give this to the boy whose
essay you read, if that's all right. He could learn from it."
"Be my guest; he doesn't know me," he said.
"Zack, you are certainly well read on ancient Greek and Roman history."
"Like I said, it's my favorite subject; except for wrestling."
"The two are tightly woven into the same fabric," I said.
"Yeah...yeah, they are, maybe that's the reason I like both," he said. "I
like to imagine what it might've been like to live back then, and be an
athlete in that society, in that purest form of athleticism."
"Yes, naked athletics was the purest form of physical expression, both for
the spectators and the athletes," I said. "And what you wrote, its' easy to
understand how wrestling in particular emerged as the predominant sport of
Greek athletes."
"How would you grade my paper?" he asked with a smile.
"B-plus as it stands alone. An A, I'm sure, in its complete form," I
said. "Its better than any I've graded of my own students."
"That would've gotten me a D back home, and probably a reprimand," Zack
said.
"A reprimand? Why, for heaven's sake."
"The content."
"The content is a matter of historical fact. What teacher worth his salt
would even consider a D, let alone a reprimand?"
"It's just the way things are back home," he said. "Can you imagine
Antonius, at sixteen or seventeen, traveling all over the Roman Empire with
the Emperor of Rome? How exciting would that be! And having statues of
Antinous put up all over the empire, a city in Egypt after him, and even
been made a god." He chuckled. "Heck, I haven't been more than a hundred
miles from home in my life."
"If you had lived in that time, you might well have been chosen instead of
Antonius," I said.
He laughed again. "Well, I don't now if I would've wanted to pay the price
Antonius did for his fame," he said.
"I doubt he thought of it as paying a price; more like a reward," I said.
"You think about it, our gymnasiums and sports arenas are closely patterned
after the great Coliseum and the arenas of ancient Greece, except for the
private rooms," he said. "I especially like reading about the soldiers of
Sparta and the way the older men looked out for the younger soldiers. It's
sort of like the way Coach Bodine looked after me. Except we didn't have
that kind of intimate relationship."
"Could there have been, do you think?" I asked in a cautiously reserved
tone.
He glanced down at his hands folded across his stomach. "I don't know. I
came close to asking him one time but chickened out. I was afraid he would
think I was gay."
"Would it have mattered to him?" I asked.
"No, I don't think so. He accepted people for who they were. I did open the
door, though, I think on purpose, so I couldn't chicken out...I told him
the night before we were to leave to come here, I wanted to talk to him
about some stuff." He shrugged and tightened his eyes, fighting back
tears. "And now he's gone."
"I'm not Coach Bodine, but I'll listen," I offered.
"You're like him," he said.
"I wish I were, but somehow, the way you speak of him, I'm afraid I come up
short," I said.
"Naw, you don't," he said, shaking his head. He paused for a long moment,
gazing down at his sneakers. "You know what I wanted to talk to Coach
about, don't you?" he asked with a side-glance in my direction.
"I would never try to second guess you," I said.
"I wanted to talk to him about feelings that started cropping up in my head
a few months ago," he said. "About being gay, and whether I might be
leaning a little in that direction."
Even though I knew the gist of his thinking, I reeled inside I was so
stunned. I remained speechless.
"You're the only person I've mentioned that to," he said, looking around at
me. "And I can because Coach Bodine would've made me feel like it was okay,
and you're so much like him."
"It is okay," I said. I struggled to find my voice and my words came out a
garbled croak. It was more than okay. His words opened up a whole new world
for me and I almost trembled with excitement.
He turned to me again, his eyes still wet with tears. "If I ever told my
dad that....he would beat me half to death, and throw me out of the house."
"That's your dad's problem, then," I said. "It doesn't make you any less a
man. And certainly not any less of a wrestler," I added, nodding to his
trophy.
"That's exactly what Coach would've told me...that I was no less a man."
"Before you let yourself get screwed up in the head over it, consider that
you might just be experiencing the natural curiosity of every teenage boy
on the planet," I said.
"Is it natural curiosity that I like to be around other guys, muscular
athletes, in the locker room and the shower...why I like to watch their
muscular bodies and compare them with my own? And wondering what it would
be like to try some of the stuff I saw guys doing in a gay magazine that I
found one time?"
"Did you keep the magazine?" I asked bluntly.
"No." He chortled again. "Well, okay, I kept it for a couple of days; long
enough to pour over the pictures and jack off a few times. But then I got
rid of it."
"I think you're buying trouble, Zack," I said.
"How do you mean?"
"I think you're worrying about something that doesn't amount to a hill of
beans in the ordinary scheme of things. You've had a flare-up of teenage
curiosity, fueled by raging testosterone, and a very deep love and respect
for a man that obviously made a difference in your life."
He laughed. "You could be right. I guess its best to wait and see how
things settle after I get over Coach's death."
"Zack," I said, biting my lower lip at what I was about to say. "Why don't
you plan on spending the night."
"Well, I don't have Coach Bodine to go home to...or anybody else for that
matter. I guess I could...if you want me to."
"Yes, I want you to," I said.
"All right, thanks," he said. "And thanks for being there for me, and
stepping up to the plate when I really needed somebody."
"I'm glad you felt that comfortable with me, to let me help you," I said. I
took in a slow, deep breath, quietly, so it wouldn't be noticed. "There is
something, though...that you should know, before you decide to stay. I
haven't been completely truthful with you. You see, I...well, I am gay. I
am and I know it."
He reared back like I'd hit him, shock on his face.
"You are? No shit?"
"Yeah, no shit," I said.
"Man, I can't believe that."
"Well, take it or leave it, for what its worth," I said with a shrug.
"Man, I just never thought...never imagined you...Whew! That's a shocker."
"So if you're uncomfortable with it, I'll understand if you decide you want
to leave."
No, I'm not uncomfortable with it. My essay should prove that. But why did
you feel you had to tell me? I sure wouldn't have guessed."
"I thought it only fair to get it out there," I said. "And because last
night, having you in the same bed with me, I had a hell of a time keeping
my hands to myself. And I'm not at all sure I'll be able to do that
again. Understand, nothing has to happen. I'll just be here with you. I'll
be your mentor, your dad, your coach, the Spartan soldier looking out for
you...anything you want me to be."
"You don't have to be any of those things," he said. "It's enough just
being who you are. And maybe...well, maybe this has all worked out for a
reason, the pieces just falling into place, like it was destined to be,
that you were on hand to rescue me."
"You are wise beyond your years, Zack," I said. I stood and walked over
stand beside the bed. His eyes followed me, curious, searching, and I met
his gaze. I put my hand on his knee. "I'm giving you this chance to stop
me," I said.
"All right," he said as he laid his hands at his sides, his eyes never
leaving mine.
"Curious as you are, you don't have a clue about yourself," I said. "You're
so focused on wrestling and your future and becoming the man you already
are that you don't see the way other people see you. Girls, women, other
boys--even grown men."
"Oh, yeah, I've seen how people look at me sometimes, but I know they're
just looking at my muscles. I sort of like that, having people admire how
I'm built. But sometimes I would like for them to want to get to know me
for who I am. Not that I mind being looked at like a piece of meat," he
added, with a chuckle.
"Trust me, they would like to get to know you, but you're pretty damned
intimidating," I said.
"I don't mean to be," he said.
"Well, you are, at first impression, in your physical appearance," I said.
"But I don't intimidate you," he said.
"No, not now. I've come to know you. But if I'd walked into the gym and
seen the young, muscle-stud walking around with that cocky, almost arrogant
stance, I might've been intimidated. Of course, that serves you well as a
wrestler."
"Have you come to grips with it, Mr. Conroy? I mean, are you certain about
your own feelings?" he asked.
"On yes. It's not in doubt," I said. I laughed softly. "If you only knew
how gay I am right now...ever since I first laid eyes on you,
actually. That wasn't my motive for stepping in and offering a helping
hand, but I'm not disappointed things are working out the way they are."
"I don't think I am either. How are things working out exactly?" he asked.
Our eyes met and I shivered inside; it was like he was looking into my
soul, and I in his. His eyes searched mine, looking for understanding,
guidance, even love and he saw my answer in my eyes.
"Will you...show me, Mr. Conroy?" he asked, his voice soft and raspy as he
raised up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"Yes." I put a slight pressure on his shoulder, urging him back across the
bed.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked as he lay back, his legs splayed
apart and hanging over the edge of the mattress. The position forced the
bulge in his jeans even larger.
"You don't have to do anything except relax and let me show you," I said
hoarsely. I ran my hand up the inside of his leg, pressing the heel of my
hand against the bulge of his jeans, and then ran my hand back down the
other thigh. I moved up to his hard, brick-like abs and on up to his
pecs. "God, Zack, you've got such a beautiful body," I whispered.
He chuckled. "I'm proud of the way I'm built, but I never had anybody call
me beautiful before."
I clasped my hands tightly around his waist, marveling at the small size of
it compared to the wide flare of his upper body. I pulled his belt out of
its loop and undid it then fumbled with the buttons of his jeans. When
they were open, I knelt down to remove his shoes and socks then raised back
up and tugged on the waist of his jeans. He lifted his butt out of the
mattress as best he could and I struggled to get his jeans pulled off the
contour of his butt. His briefs came with them part way and he
instinctively reached down to pull them up.
"Do you want to leave your briefs on?" I asked as I pulled his jeans off.
"No, it was just an instinctive reaction to pull them up," he said.
"Yes, I thought so," I said. But I left them and tugged his T-shirt up. He
raised up and peeled it off.
"Dam, these thighs are lethal," I said as I squeezed the hard, thick
quads. "Geezusss, you are so beautiful. I want to worship you body," I
said. I leaned down and kissed his right pec, pulling on his tit with my
pursed lips.
"UUhhnnnnn," he moaned softly.
"That feel good?"
"Yeah, I didn't know a guy had feelings there," he said.
"You've got feelings a lot of places you don't know about," I said. I moved
my lips down his stomach a little ways then went back up to his chest. I
nibbled on his tits, one then the other, and moved out further to kiss the
curvature of his pecs, and on into his armpit.
"Ohhhh, your mouth feels good," he whispered. "But I should probably
shower. I get pretty sweaty when I wrestle."
"You're fine. I like honest sweat," I said and continued to lap at his
armpits. I had him shivering by the time I moved back onto his chest and
down his stomach again. "You have absolutely beautiful abs," I said as I
kissed the lumps of hard muscle and dragged my tongue along the ridges
between them. At the waistband of his shorts I skipped over and went to my
knees between his legs. I started kissing his bulging calf muscle and
kissed up his thigh, then back down the other.
"Ohh....Ohhh, your mouth feels good everywhere," he said. The bulge in his
shorts was growing larger and poking out to one side with his hardon. I
rose up over him and clamped my mouth over it. "Aahhhhh!" he whimpered, and
made a feeble effort to push my face away.
"Just let it happen," I said hoarsely. "Let me show you."
He moved his hands. I mouthed his manhood through his shorts till the
material was soaked with my spit. I knew I was torturing him but I wanted
him to want it so bad that he would beg me to show him.
"Aww, Mr. Conroy, you're getting me so hot!" he moaned, as he put his hands
lightly on the back of my head.
"Why don't you call me Jack," I said.
"Okay...Jack..."
"What were you going to say?" I asked.
"I just wanted you to know how wonderful that feels, but I wish..." His
voice choked off.
"You wish what?"
"I wish you'd...do it....show me what it's like."
I smiled. He was near the begging point. But I would make him beg. Rather
it was I who would have begged to have him. I tugged on his briefs and he
rose up to let me pull them off of him. His cock settled like a piece of
solid rubber out over his stomach, covering his navel. From seeing him
naked, I knew he was bit, but I never imagined he would be this big. I laid
my hand around it and my fingers wouldn't each all the way around its
girth. It throbbed and quivered on the upswing, lowered slightly then
throbbed up again.
"You're really big," I said.
"I know."
"I can't get my hand around it," I said.
"I remember the day that I realized my hand wouldn't fit all the way around
it and I thought I was turning into some kind of freak," he said.
"Oh, you're not a freak," I assured him. "Your cock is awesomely
beautiful."
"That's what Coach told me. Not that my cock was beautiful, but he told me
I wasn't a freak when I mentioned it to him one time."
"Did he ever see it?"
"Sure, he was my coach, he saw me naked lots of time," Zack said.
"I meant, did he ever see you hard?"
He laughed. "Only about every day," he said. "Can you...do...I mean, am I
too big to..."
"No. You're not too big." With that I pulled his cock upright and lowered
my mouth over the head.
"Hhhaaawwwwwhhhhhhh!" he moaned with surprise. "Ohh, Geezusssss!"
I held the head of his cock in my mouth and lavered it with my tongue.
"Ohhh...Ohhh, Geezusss...Ohh, my Godd," he moaned as he gaped down at me,
his eyes wide with disbelief.
I lowered my mouth, taking more of his cock, till the head was pressing
against the opening of my throat. He was going to be a challenge. My throat
was going to be sore in the morning. But I was up to it. God, I would have
taken the boy if he were twice as big. I had no choice. I was committed to
showing him; I was his teacher.
I sucked him slowly, almost with a reverence born out of worship. He threw
one arm over his eyes, whimpering between breaths, making his stomach
muscles dance and ripple beautifully. He seemed to be trying to hold
still. I clasped my hands under his butt and pulled his hips upward, urging
him to move with me. He responded and began fucking upward into my
face. Gradually, I was stretching the opening of my throat. I think he
thought I was taking him as far as I could, so he wasn't forcing
me. Carefully, I pushed down, gaping my throat open, and forced the head of
his cock through the opening.
"Ohhh," he gasped.
I pushed down more, forcing his thick, hot cock up into my throat. Down,
down...down...till I had my lips locked around the base, in his pubes.
"OHhhhh!" he groaned.
I held him there for a moment, gulping and swallowing, milking his cock
with my throat muscles, and he whimpered and gasped with pleasure. Then I
rose back up.
"Ohh, Goddd...I didn't know anything could feel that good," he said.
I smiled as I fisted his slick cock and nuzzled down to lick his balls. He
gasped and splayed his legs wider, anxious for me to show him more. I
sucked them into my mouth, one then the other. They were too big to take
both at the same time. Big and heavy; they hung to the mattress. They must
be so full! I wanted to empty them.
"Aww, Mr. Con... Jack... Godd, that feels so good!"
I went back to his cock and moved my mouth up and down the shaft, up to the
tip, then back down to his balls. I let my spit run freely down over his
balls, down between his legs, knowing it would seep into the crack of his
ass where it could be put to good use. Then I went back down on his cock
and sucked him in earnest. He responded in kind. I was playing with his
butt at the same time and he didn't seem to mind when I slipped my fingers
into the crack of his ass--till I found his hole. He jumped and
instinctively grabbed my wrist. I pulled my hand back. I would have to take
another route there.
I went back to sucking his cock, still attempting to finger his ass, till
finally, he didn't stop me. I think he realized that I meant him no harm,
and it felt good. I didn't penetrate him, I only rubbed my fingertip around
the tight hole and soon he was squirming against it. I wanted to show him
what it felt like with my fingers dancing around inside his ass...I longed
desperately to show him what my cock would feel like...but I would have to
go slow and take the other route to get there.
"Let's turn around on the bed," I said as I crawled up at the foot of the
bed. Zack turned length-ways on the bed and spread his legs out on either
side of me. I knelt on my haunches, pumping his cock and squeezing his
balls. Then I stretched out on my stomach and slipped my arms under his
thighs. He hunkered down for me. I worked on his balls for a moment then
lifted them up and nuzzled under them. I felt dizzy from the musky sweat of
his maleness. He was going to be wonderful ...delicious! I urged his legs
higher and lapped my tongue further under his balls. I found where his taut
butt muscles began to separate and shoved his legs higher.
"Aww, mannn...w-what're g-gonna do?" he stammered as he complied and
wrapped his hands around his knees and pulled his legs up against his
chest.
"I'm going to show you," I said as I lapped up and down the separation of
his butt. He pulled his muscular legs tighter against his chest. I found
and flicked at his hole, making him shiver and moan and tremble. I spread
my hands out over his butt muscles and pulled his hole wide open. I sucked
the aroma into my lungs and drove my tongue inside him.
"AWWWWHhhhhhhhhhh!"
His butt was a virtual feast. I felt like I had the most delectable morsel
on a silver platter. I tongued his ass feverishly, till he was choking back
his cries of pleasure. I let myself get caught up in it as much as him,
almost frantic with lust for the boy as I drove my tongue up inside him as
far as I could reach. It made him squeal with pleasure. We had the entire
night, there was no need to hold him off or bring him back down. He was
soaring with lust and I wanted to take him over the top. Along with my
tongue, I worked one finger into his hole up to the first knuckle. It was
enough to demonstrate the pleasure of it without scaring him off. Very
gently I shoved my finger deeper, searching for his love nut. I knew that
would drive him absolutely crazy. Ahh, there it was...the firm spot down
inside his ass...palpitating with its own pleasure. He gasped and jumped
when I touched it. I rubbed the tip of my finger over it lightly. It
wouldn't take much. I just wanted him to realize what feelings lay inside
his ass. I wanted him to want more; I wanted to leave him wanting and
wondering.
"Ohhmmm, Gezusss," he whispered hoarsely. "Ohh, Jack....I d-don't know
w-what you you're d-doing to me, but I....I'm getting close...awwwwhhhhh,
so close!" He grabbed his cock and began jacking off. I reached up and
shoved his hand away and he moaned with frustration.
He was ready and I was ready, waiting on the edge to pounce and deliver him
into the abyss of pleasure that he'd never know before. I gauged his climax
to bring him just to the brink...make him suffer, even, as I held him there
on the precarious precious. His asshole squeezed around my finger then
relaxed...then squeezed again and relaxed...and I knew he was about to
cum. He was choking on it. I rose up over him and took his cock in my mouth
again while I kept my finger busy dancing over his prostate. His love nut
was palpitating so hard it was almost quivering as the momentum built up to
explosion.
"Oh, Godd...Ohhhh...OHH...Ohhh, Jack...I'm gonna cum...you better get off
of it...I'm gonna shoot...right in your mouth...Oh, Fuck! If you don't get
off of it...!"
I didn't get off of it. His cock swelled harder, bolting like a steel rod,
and I felt the powerful surge up through the shaft, delivering his load. He
fairly exploded. He shot against the back of my mouth like a water
cannon. The stuff fairly gushed out, spraying my mouth with the thick
whitewash. My God, he was cumming like a young stallion! I massaged his
prostate harder, forcing it to jolt his cum out of his body. Very quickly,
I had a mouthful of cum and he was still shooting. Where was it all coming
from!? He was phenomenal! I had to swallow. I gulped the stuff down and he
gave me more. I wondered if he'd been saving it up; if perhaps Coach Bodine
was one of those coaches that convinced his boys that jacking off was bad
for their health and their athletic ability. Surely, the boy couldn't
produce such a huge load every time.
I was trembling with pure ecstasy. Sweat was pouring off my forehead. I
held his cock in my mouth till the pulsations produced nothing then I
swallowed his cock to the hilt. I tightened my lips around the base and
held him there for a long moment then raised up, pulling the last of his
boy-man-seed out of him. At the top I locked my lips around the gristled
rim and tugged on his cock. Then I let it drop. It fell with a heavy smack
across his stomach.
"Ohhh, Geezusss...awww, fuck, Jack," he whimpered. I loved the word fuck
coming out of his mouth. I crawled over and lay beside him. He moved over
to give me more room and I stuck out my arm for him to lie on. We didn't
speak for a long time.
"Zack?" I said finally.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"You don't smoke, so I think this is when I'm supposed to ask if you're
okay." My joke was lost on him; he didn't know anything about lighting up
after sex.
"I'm okay," he said. That was all, just okay...he sounded a bit numb or
bewildered.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"I think I'm more okay than I've ever been in my life," he said.
"Good." There was another long silence, but it wasn't an uncomfortable
quiet.
"Thanks...for showing me," he said, out of breath.
"That was just a preview," I said. He turned and looked at me with
disbelief. "You saw those pictures in the magazine," I said.
"Yes b-but...but I didn't think y-you would...s-show me everything," he
stammered.
"Till you stop me," I said.
He could see my cock throbbing up and down over my stomach. "You didn't
make it," he said.
"This isn't about me," I said. He looked at me with that soul-reaching look
that made me all weak inside. His eyes were asking something but I couldn't
read, and I didn't ask. He would have to reveal on his own what his eyes
were asking.
"I couldn't believe you did that to my butt," he said. "And your
finger. You scared me at first but then it started feeling good."
"Everything I do is to make you feel good," I said.
"You sure as hell did that."
"Yes, I could tell, when you went off. You're like a horse," I said.
"I know, I tried to warn you," he said.
"I heard you."
"I couldn't believe when you let me go off in your mouth, and then you
swallowed it," he said.
"It had to be right for you," I said. I rolled onto my side, propped up on
one arm and rubbed my hand across his chest.
"Your hand feels good," he said.
"Your muscles feel wonderful." He sort of shivered when I dragged my
fingers across his tits.
"I'll show you how good that can feel," I said as I raised up over him. I
put my mouth over his pec muscle and flicked his tit with my tongue. Then I
nibbled on it with my teeth.
"Awwww....that's gotta be what it feels like to a girl when a guy's sucking
on her tits," he said. I sucked his other tit then made my way down his
stomach. "Aww, mann, your tongue feels good everywhere." He put his hand on
my head. "If you keep going...you're going to have it to do all over
again."
"Maybe with enough practice, I can get it right," I joked.
"Oh, you got it right," he assured me.
"I can see you're rising to the occasion again," I said.
"It never went down completely from the last occasion," he said.
I kept my tongue busy on his rock-hard abs as I watched his cock swell out
and quiver and throb before my eyes. Ball-juice began to form in the slit
and I licked it off. His cock jolted in appreciation. "I can suck you
again, or I can show you more, Zack," I said.
"Show me more." I stretched diagonally across the bed on my stomach where I
could reach the lube. Zack rose up but hesitated. "I don't think I can...I
don't think I'm ready for that, if its what I'm thinking," he said with an
unsure, half-smile.
I realized that he thought I wanted him to eat my ass. "No, I want you to
fuck me," I said.
He perked up, surprised. "No...kidding! I saw that in the magazine, too,
but...I thought it was posed with some kind of trick photography."
"It's very real," I assured him.
"Can you take all of this?" he asked, gripping his huge cock. I reached
under the edge of the mattress for the lube and handed it to him. "Use your
fingers at first, like I did you, get me stretched a little," I said, but
he was hesitant. "Don't worry, I'm clean," I assured him.
A steady hand reached for the tube of lubricant. He uncapped it, squeezed
some out and slid his fingers between my butt. I reared and tilted my butt
up for him and he easily found my hole. He was gentle and awkward but I
responded with my butt to guide him. He seemed to enjoy using his fingers
on me and he soon had three of those long, thick fingers probing in and out
of my ass, stretching my hole.
"UUhhnnnnnnnnn," I moaned when he found my love nut.
"That must be feeling good."
"Aww, yesss, when you touch that spot," I said.
"What spot?" he asked.
"I'll let you know when you find it again."
He probed, searching and I groaned again when his fingers touched my love
nut.
"There?" he asked.
"You've got it," I said.
He explored my prostate. "That's what got me so hot and drove me nuts,
isn't it?" he said.
"Yes."
"What is it? Something like a clit, like a girl's got?"
"No, it's your prostate. Girls don't have `em," I said. "UUhhnn...ohhh,
damn, that feels good. You've got such big, strong fingers."
Zack moved his fingers back and forth across my prostate, tapping on
it. "Ohh, Goddd...Ohhhh...Ohhhhh...Ohhhh, fuck...Aww, Zack, you gotta stop
before you make me cum!"
He stopped but left his fingertips pressed against my love nut. "Go ahead
and come if you want to, but...I really would like to fuck you," he said.
"I want you to fuck me," I said. He withdrew his fingers and I could feel
my asshole was stretched open. He maneuvered himself into position and I
felt the heat of his cock pressing between my butt. It seared my asshole as
he pressed against it. He tried several times to enter me.
"I don't think I'm gonna fit," he said.
"Come on, Zack, you pinned that big brute this afternoon, but you can't
bust me open with that big cock of yours?" I chided him, and tilted my butt
up more. He took the challenge, not viciously, but he drew on the great
strength of his butt and his abs and other muscles to power his cock
through my hole.
"Hhaaoohhh!" I gasped as the head shoved through. I didn't ask him to stop
and wait and he didn't. He pushed right on in, sinking his huge cock
deeper, plowing through my insides like a giant drill, till I felt his hard
loins pressing against my butt. He held still for a moment, except for his
cock throbbing inside me.
"Godd, that's the sweetest thing I ever felt!" he exclaimed. He waited a
moment longer, as if to relish the new sensations, then slowly pulled back
and began to fuck me. He liked my butt as well as my asshole. He squeezed
the muscles and kneaded them like bread dough and pulled them apart to give
me more of his cock. I was going crazy in my own quiet way. I couldn't let
it out without having the whole town wondering what was going on.
"My Godddd!" I gasped softly as he skewered his cock into me.
"Is it okay?" he asked.
"Oh, Goddd, Zack...if you only knew! My God, you know how to fuck!"
"It's nothing I learned," he said. "Just something a guy knows how to do."
"No, guys don't just know how to fuck like that," I said.
"Then I guess I've found my talent," he joked.
"Yes, if you don't make it at wrestling, you can earn your way as a male
escort," I told him. I loved it when he spread his weight against me, his
hard, warm muscles rippling against my backside.
"Not that I've had that many girls, but this is better than any girl I ever
had," he said.
"Do you want to do it like a girl?" I asked.
"On your back; you take the woman's position? Yeah, I would like to watch
your muscles bulging and rippling while I fuck you," he said as he pulled
out.
"I've got an idea," I said as I turned over. "I want you to put your medal
on."
He gave me a funny smile.
"I want to know I'm being fucked by the state champ," I said.
He smiled as he pulled his cock out of me and stepped off the bed to get
his medal. He slipped the ribbon over his head. Then his smile widened as
he went over and got his athletic jacket and slipped it on.
"Ohh, that is hot!" I exclaimed. The heavy jacket hung open, framing his
abs and the insides of his thick pecs. He climbed back on the bed and I
raised my legs up.
"Okay, the state champ's gonna to fuck you," he said.
He didn't know it, but it was a fantasy fulfilled. Zack before me on his
haunches in his jacket and the medal hanging between his thick chest
muscles, his abs rippling as he fucked me...I was being fucked by every
high school stud-jock I'd ever dreamed about. Once he was hovered over me,
pressing his chest against mine and I had my arms wrapped around his jacket
and our faces were so close, side-by-side. I could smell his sweet, hot
breath and I wanted to kiss him but he needed to initiate it. He didn't.
"Can I cum in you?" he asked.
"Yes, are you getting close?"
"I could be, if I let it go," he said.
"Let it go," I told him. I wanted him to fuck me all night, but it was
about him, and there was more that we needed to explore together. Maybe he
wouldn't want any more lessons, once his lust was satisfied, but I took the
chance. He didn't go wild when he reached his climax. He just shot off. I
could hardly tell he was close till suddenly I felt the heat of his come
spurting deep inside me.
"Ohh...Ohhhhh, you're cumming...I can feel it!"
"Oh, yeah, you're gonna feel it," he assured me.
After he shot off he fell weak on top of me. I loved the weight of his
muscles on me. It was a wonderful moment.
"I'm getting heavy, I'll bet," he said as pushed himself up in a push-up
position. He was but I would've stayed like that all night.
"You put all the power you've got behind all of that muscle, it's easy to
see why you're the state champ," I said. "You could wrestle a bull to the
ground."
"It wasn't easy," he said. "That other guy had a lot of power behind a lot
muscle, too."
He stayed on his hands and knees over me for a moment then straightened on
his haunches and eased his cock out of my ass. "How's it feel to get fucked
by the state champ?" he asked with a grin.
"Incredible. You're wonderful, Zack. You fulfilled my fantasy."
"Oh? Tell me about this fantasy," he said.
"When you were fucking me, wearing your athletic jacket and your medal, it
was like I was being fucked by every stud-jock in high school all wrapped
up in you."
"I'm glad I could make it come true for you," he said
"As much as I admired the ancient Greek and Roman cultures, they were wrong
about one thing," he said.
"What?"
"About the man being penetrated, supposed to be effeminate. I felt nothing
at all effeminate about you. It was more like we were equals, striving to
give each other equal pleasure."
"They were right about the absolute adulation of youth, though," I
said. "But I didn't get the feeling I was your protector. Yeah, we were
equals, for sure."
"If I lived back then, I would want you to be my mentor and my Spartan
soldier," he said.
For the moment, I think we both forgot that Zack thought he might be
gay. He was such a stud, and so straight-acting and except for what he'd
written in his essay, I wasn't so sure he was. We lay side by side in the
quiet aftermath, my ass still clenching hungrily, aching for his big
cock. My asshole itched but my cock wasn't hard; only rubbery, lying across
my hip. Then Zack spoke, after a loud swallow.
"This is so much like the time of the ancient Greeks and Romans...the
young student athlete under the guidance of the older, wiser male; or the
young soldier being taught by his superior officer. It makes me realize
even more that I'm not...well, sure about things...about myself."
"Do you want to be sure?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Well, that's a path you'll have to take in your own time," I said.
"This'll probably the only chance I'll have to find out to be sure," he
said. And with that he suddenly put his hand over my cock. I put my hand
over his and he turned his face to me with a funny look; confused, perhaps
that I was trying to stop him. I seized the opportunity.
"This might not be the time yet, to explore those feelings," I said.
"I can't think of a better time," he said.
"There's something I want to show you first," I said huskily.
"Okay."
I leaned half over him, pinned one of his arms over his head and kissed
him.
"Mmmhhhhhnnnnn!" he moaned, partly from surprise. He tensed at first but
then he relaxed and his lips were pressing back against mine. I flicked my
tongue out and he parted his lips. I muffled his squeal as I lashed my
tongue around his. I kissed him long and hard, with great passion, probing
at his throat with my tongue. Then I parted and lay back. Zack lay there
looking up at the ceiling, his breath coming in gasps. Suddenly he rose up
over me as I had done to him, and he kissed me. He crawled on top of me as
we kissed and when we parted he began his trek down my chest and abs, in
search of my manhood, his heavy medal dragging over my muscles.
"Zack...!" I moaned.
"I wanta do this," he said.
I choked down a harsh gasp when I felt his mouth on my cock--such an
exquisite feeling; his virgin mouth exploring a cock...my cock...for the
first time. His awkwardness only made it more pleasurable. I wanted to
cry. I raked my hands across his broad shoulders, scraping at the material
of his jacket. Then I pushed it off his shoulders and he shrugged it
off. He sucked me for several minutes before he paused.
"Is that okay? Am I doing it okay?" he asked.
The tears that had already formed in my eyes popped free and ran down my
face. "Ohh, Zack...if you only knew how all right it was--you're
wonderful. God, you're a dream, Zack." He went back down on me, hovering
over me on his knees, and lifted my legs and put them on his shoulders. He
paused again.
"I like doing it," he said. "I wasn't sure I would, but I do." He sucked me
to the brink more than once, each time a little closer, till I knew I
wasn't going to be able to hold off.
"Zack, you've had me awful close," I said.
"I'm trying," he said as he pumped my cock with his fist.
"Are you sure you're ready to take that step?" I asked.
"No. But I wasn't sure I was ready to do what I'm doing, but I'm doing it,"
he said.
"Have you ever tasted cum? Your own, I mean."
"Yeah, a couple of times, by accident," he said. He grinned. "No, it wasn't
by accident. I tasted it on purpose."
"Just a couple of times?"
"Yeah...I...I didn't really like the taste of it."
"Then maybe you'd better not try a full load," I said.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
"Yes, I've developed a taste for it, especially young studs like you."
"Then I guess I have to develop a taste for it," he said.
"I'll warn you, just in case you want to change your mind," I said.
"I won't," he said as he went back down on my cock.
I held off a couple more times then decided to let it go. He had to make
his decision. He was lashing his tongue around the underside of my cockhead
with it in his mouth and it was making my asshole twitch and if he didn't
stop, I was going to blow. I didn't tell him to stop, though, and he
didn't. "Zack....Zack!" I whispered, putting my hands on his head.
He moaned and nodded and kept on sucking. Okay, he'd made his decision; he
would have to live with it. I sort of relaxed and let my climax sweep
through me, taking on such momentum that by the time the spasms were in
full force it felt like the top of my head was going to blow off. I think
it would have if the pressure weren't released out through my cock
first. Zack whimpered a deep moan of surprise when the first shot hurled
into his mouth. He choked but stayed on my cock as I gave him another, and
another, and another. His mouth was filling but he didn't swallow. But he
didn't stop sucking my cock either. He stayed on me with great
determination, through to the end, and my cock was engulfed in my own
cum. I was anxious, and worried, to see what he would do. Spit it out on
the sheet? Swallow it? Swallow and maybe get sick?
Suddenly he stopped and rose up. My cock fell heavily across my hip. Zack
climbed off the bed, his lips pursed tightly, his cheeks ballooned, and a
panicked look on his face. He hurried to the bathroom and I heard him spit
as the water gushed into the sink. I wondered if he had managed to swallow
any of it. Moments later, he came back. I slid over to make room for him on
the bed. He stretched out on his stomach with his arms folded under his
head. "I guess I'm not as gay as I thought I was," he said jokingly.
"You did fine...if you want encouragement," I said.
"I can see why it's an acquired taste," he said. "It's not a taste you'd be
born with. I hope I did okay, getting you off."
We spent the night having wonderful sex together. I think Zack was having
sex I was making love to him. He fucked me twice more, once to my climax,
the second to both of us shooting off. And he gave me yet another mouthful
of thick boy-cum when I sucked him off. I was stunned when he suggested a
sixty-nine.
"Listen, we could do this together, couldn't we?" he asked rather timidly.
"Yes. Absolutely. It would be wonderful," I said. And he turned around on
the bed with his head between my legs and mine between his.
"Ohhh, this is better," he moaned as we sucked each other. "Listen, I wanta
try to finish you off right this time," he said.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. If we can gauge it so we both go off at the same time, I'll be so hot
I'll want to do it."
I was waiting for him to ask me to fuck him; it was the only thing left to
show him. Morning light crept through our window and found us
entangled. Zack stirred first and we slowly untangled ourselves.
"Mannnnn, if I'd done this before my match, I would've got my ass beat into
the mat," he said as he stretched languidly.
I smiled.
"What's that smile for?" he asked.
"Just an observation. You seem so happy in your skin and sure of yourself,
compared to the timid, bewildered boy of last night."
"Thanks to my teacher," he said.
"Well, you passed your exam," I said.
He paused. "You didn't have all the questions on the exam that I thought
you would," he said. I knew what he meant but I didn't say it. He turned to
me and our eyes met and he knew I knew. But he had to be the one to say it.
"But I don't think I'm ready for it," he said huskily. "I think I've done
pretty good," he went on with a thin smile. "I'm scared."
"It's okay," I said. "You don't have to do everything your first time out."
"But who knows when another time will come? I was counting on you showing
me."
I put my hand on his chest. "Trust me, Zack, someone will come along, maybe
at college...maybe another wrestler...he'll show you. It'll be the right
guy, and you won't be scared."
I wanted him to fuck me one more time. He did. He said he wanted to make it
something we would remember. He fucked me all over the room, till we were
both drenched with sweat, then he drenched me with his hot cum--so much
that it was as if he'd been saving it up for a week. I was on my knees in
front of him when he shot all over me. He helped me to my feet and led me
to the bathroom where he washed me off in the shower.
"I've always wanted to do this...soap up another guy in the shower," he
said. "There's so much I've fantasized about."
"Now, you'll do all those things you've fantasized about," I said.
"When that right guy comes along," he said.
"He's out there, Zack."
"I don't know where to look," he said.
"He'll find you. You'll find each other," I assured him. We stayed naked
while we packed. Zack patted my butt or squeezed my pecs or punched me in
the stomach and a couple of times he hugged me. "It feels so good to be
able to do that; to touch another man's muscles."
"You do that every time you get on the mat," I said.
"It's different." Then he said, "I wish there was some way I could repay
you for everything."
"You already have," I said. "But there is one thing..."
"What? Name it," he said eagerly.
"I would like to have your jockstrap."
"You want my jockstrap? Sure," he said, sounding confused. He dug it out of
his bag and gave it to me. I took the wide-point pen I used for grading
papers and printed "State Wrestling Champ" in the waistband. Then I handed
it to him, with the pen.
"I want you to autograph it for me, on the label," I said.
He scrawled his name across the label then added the date below what I had
printed. He eyed me with a mischievous grin as he handed it back to
me. "Could we make this a trade?"
"For what?" I asked.
"I've been eyeing those shorts you wear," he said, "the dark blue ones."
"Heck, yeah, you can have `em," I said. I dug them out of my bag along with
a pair of white ones." I started to tuck the jockstrap in my bag when I had
another idea. "Listen, I've got my camera...would you put this on and pose
for me?" I asked, handing him his jockstrap.
He slipped the jock on and did several poses for me.
"How about the jacket?" I said.
He slipped his athletic jacket and did a couple of poses in it. One with
his hands on his hips, spreading the jacket apart to show his pecs and the
full plate of his abs, and another from the back with his tight bubble-butt
sticking out under the waist of the jacket.
"Will you send me copies?" he asked.
"Be glad to."
"Would you, uh...take a couple more?" he asked as he shed his jacket and
pulled off his jockstrap. He stood wearing only is medal. "Like this. This
is the way I should've been awarded the medal. This is the way the match
should've been fought," he said.
We went back to packing and getting dressed.
"Jack, what'd you mean when you said I could earn my way as a male escort?"
"You should think that through before you decide to do it," I said.
"I think everything through," he said.
"Okay. Well, there are two classifications of male escorts," I said. "One
is just that...an escort for women who like to have good-looking hunks on
their arms. escort her to parties, and such. And entertain her afterwards
if that's what she's paying you for."
"You mean...fuck her."
"Yes."
"That's a fancy name for a male prostitute," he said.
"Yes. That's the reason I told you to think it through."
"What's the other classification?" he asked.
"Other guys," I said. "Only with guys, it's usually not a social
thing. They hire you to have sex, pure and simple."
"You mean I could've been paid for last night?" he joked.
"Yes--and quite a lot."
"How much?"
"For the time we spent, and everything we did; for a guy with your looks
and your body, and that huge cock...a thousand dollars, easy."
"A thousand...dollars!" he blurted. "Shit, and was I worrying about getting
a wrestling scholarship?"
"Because you're a champion wrestler, and it's what you do," I said.
We rode the elevator down and dropped off the room key at the
desk. Outside, he walked partly toward his Jeep and partly toward my car,
as if he were confused where he should be going. Then he stopped.
"Thanks, for everything--for being there for me when I sure as hell needed
somebody--and for showing me everything."
"Don't thank me," I said. "I'm the one to be thanking you."
"Oh, here...," he said as he dug out his wallet. "Let me pay you for part
of the room and meals."
"No," I said, holding my hand up.
"Come on, I feel like I ought to pay you something," he said.
"It's going to take you awhile to realize all there is to know about
yourself, but you've given me the most wonderful night of my life. You've
paid me a hundred times over."
He grinned, a mischievous grin that I hadn't seen before. "Well, okay,
maybe I have," he said. "I gave you my jockstrap. And at a thousand bucks a
night, maybe you owe me."
"Maybe I do. But I couldn't afford you."
Standing in the parking lot I said something that had haunted me after we'd
hooked up and had sex so many times.
"There's something I want to say, Zack. I know you believe you're gay but I
want you explore your feelings some more before you jump to that side of
the fence. It's just as likely that you're just experimenting around,
dealing with your curiosity When you get back home, and in college, do a
reality check and see how you really feel about girls."
"You mean I could be bi?"
I shrugged. "I just want you to be sure of the lifestyle you might be
choosing for yourself."
We shook hands then hugged hard and tight then parted ways, promising to
keep in touch. It was his idea; he wanted prints of the pictures, but I was
hopeful, and deeply touched that he asked for my address and phone
number. A few days after I got home I received a short letter from him,
thanking me again for everything. I was embarrassed by it; I wished he
would stop thanking me when I had him to thank. He also tucked in a bill
for eight hundred dollars for "services rendered." But he never asked about
the pictures.
I brought Zack's essay to school to give to the boy, Adam Schiller, who had
written the essay about the Roman Empire. I told myself it was strictly for
literary purposes to let the boy read it, but I was sure enough of Adam
that it would spark an interest; and I took the time to check his school
records to make sure he was over eighteen. Yeah, right, that was
literary. I gave it to him after class on Friday.
"Should I read it now?" he asked.
"Yes, I'll need it back; you shouldn't take it with you," I said.
He sat down in the chair right in front of my desk and began go read.
"You can read it aloud if you like," I said.
"This is very good. Who wrote this?" he asked.
"A student of a teacher friend of mine," I lied. "I thought you might be
interested, since you've shown such an interest in ancient Roman and Greek
history."
He began reading aloud while I watched for his reaction. His facial
expressions were priceless and soon he was squirming in his chair. Once he
glanced up from the paper and I thought he saw me staring at his crotch.
"This is really good," he said, looking a little flushed.
"Yes, I thought so," I agreed.
When he was finished, he said, "It's much better than what I wrote."
"The two compliment each other," I said.
He gazed at the paper for a moment. "There's a certain romanticism about
it, in the way he wrote it. Especially how the battle-hardened Spartan
soldiers mentored the younger recruits." Then he stood and came up to my
desk to hand me the paper. I thought it odd that he moved to the side of my
desk when he was sitting right in front of it. I thought the front of his
jeans looked fuller. He leaned in to press his thighs against my desk,
causing his bulge to protrude out over the edge. I started to reach for
paper but he laid it right in front of his bulge. My eyes fixed on the
protrusion for a second and when I glanced up from it, he was looking at
me. I glanced at the door, with a surge of forbidden excitement. We were on
the third floor, at the far end of the hallway; someone coming could be
heard. I looked back and he was pressing himself harder against my desk, or
his bulge had expanded, I couldn't be sure.
"Stand on the other side," I told him in a husky whisper, motioning to the
left side of my desk.
He moved around to the other side and when he came up against the edge of
the desk, my hand as there. He pressed his manhood hard against my hand. I
reached over with my other hand to unbutton his jeans; he wore no
belt. When I had his fly open he eased back so I could reach inside his
shorts. He helped me, stretching the waistband of his shorts down under his
balls, revealing his very impressive cock. I turned in my swivel chair and
he came around to stand in front of me.
"I wish I could've been Antonius," he said.
"You are a modern day Antonius," I said. "You're a very beautiful boy and
if you had lived in that time, they would have erected statues in your
honor."
Looking in his face, he looked happy with my analogy. I leaned down and
took his cock in my mouth.
"Ohhhhhh," he moaned softly putting a hand on my shoulder and one hand on
my head. "Ohh, Mr. Conroy, that feels so wonderful."
I sucked him gently, wondering if this was his first time. I dearly hoped
so. We couldn't be long; the risk was too great. It was a foolish thing to
be doing. The foolishness lasted only a few minutes. When he acted like he
was getting close I raised up.
"When you're ready, you can come in my mouth," he said.
"Ohh, Yess."
The mere mention of it must have excited him. His cock like steel in my
mouth and he clasped his hands around my shoulders as his lips lurched out
of control. The next instant he was spurting powerful ropes of warm,
boy-semen to splatter against the back of my mouth. His climax lasted only
a short time but it was terribly intense, taking complete control of the
boy's body. As he came down from it, he trembled and gasped for air. I saw
that his legs weren't going to support him and I stood up to let him sit in
my chair.
"I never...had...anything feel so good...in my life!" he gasped.
I kept my eye on the door as I used my spit to wash down the taste of his
come. I gave him a minute to recover.
"Can you stand?" I asked, laughing softly.
"Yeah, I think so," he said. "Ohh, Godd, Mr. Conroy, nothing ever felt so
good."
"I'm glad. Was it your first time?" I asked.
"Yes. I never imagined it could be so wonderful."
"You need to get your pants up," I said, feeling nervous now.
He gave me a strange look as he was doing up his pants. "Did you...swallow
my come?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Oh, that's hot!" he said.
"Yes, it was pretty hot," I agreed, anxious now to get him out of my
classroom. I walked to the door to check out the hallway; there was no on
there. He walked past me.
"Thanks, Mr. Conroy."
"Don't thank me," I said. Then I did another foolish thing. "Adam," I
said. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. I hesitated. No, I
shouldn't. But the fresh, sweet taste of him lingered in my mouth. "Do you
know where I live?"
"Yes."
"All right," I said, nodding.
"When?" he asked.
"Just call," I told him.
The summer passed and I never heard from Zack. I longed to get in touch
with him, but I needed to hear from him again first. He was out there
making a life for himself; I couldn't interfere. I didn't know which path
he had chosen. I thought he would contact me about the pictures. I wondered
a lot how Zack was getting along in school; if he'd met that "right"
guy...wondered if he'd gotten his tight ass fucked yet. I couldn't send the
pictures to his home and I'd forgotten where he was going to school, till
one day I got another letter.
Jack:
Well, I'm in college, using up that wrestling scholarship you helped me
get. I promise to do you proud. I like it here. I've done and am doing what
I promised. I'm dating girls, too. Note; the operative word is `too.' I
enjoy their company but I feel just as comfortable with them platonically
as I am screwing them. Meanwhile, I've met some really great guys at
wrestling meets but nothing has developed between us. No guts.
Also a really neat guy at the gym. He's a gymnast, but that's okay. He's
got muscles, and he's cute as hell. I think we're establishing sort of a
connection but we're both afraid to take it to the mat. I know he thinks
I'm straight. Who knows? I'm taking your advice; I'm taking it slow and
cautious. Consequently, I am still waiting to be `shown' that final
frontier. I've wished more than once that I'd let you show me when I had
the chance. Needless to say, my sex life is pretty much on hold except for
my fist, and a couple of girls. My fist serves me well. Just wanted you to
know that I think about you and that I will never forget what all you did
for me. You set me on the right path so I can find my way in this life. No
one else, except Coach Bodine, cared enough to do that. You can tell that,
obviously, nothing has changed at home with my folks. But that's okay. We
get along as well as need be.
Gratefully
yours, Zack
I let a few tears fall over his letter. It...he...meant so much to me. He
still didn't realize how much, and maybe I hadn't either till I read his
letter. Meanwhile, I was foolish enough to let my emotions get in the way
of common sense and started up a relationship with another of my
students. It was only a short time after young Adam had moved away. This
boy reminded me of Zack in his manner and his build and his good looks; and
that he seemed to be lost to the world, lacking good parental guidance from
home. I found him looking down in the dumps one day and asked him what the
problem was. He said his life was going down the tubes. I thought it was
girl problems, except the only problem I knew that Brian Tate had was
warding the girls off. He was a stud, and I couldn't imagine a stud having
girl problems and I told him that.
"My car is dead in the water, I need new tires for starters," he said.
"Oh, I thought it was something serious, like girls," I said.
"I can't afford to take a girl out on a date," he said.
All I could offer were words of comfort at the time but concerned, I gave
it some thought and with the help of a friend of mine, we got Brian a job
at the nearby college as an artist's model. He balked at first. He had the
looks and the body for it but he was self-conscious about his body and shy
to a fault. I took him over to the college and the woman who interviewed
him was so sweet and gushy that she very quickly put him at ease. So at
ease that she had him out of his clothes in no time so she could see if he
had the qualifications. She laughed a throaty laugh when he hesitated about
taking his clothes off for.
"Mr. Conroy told me you're an athlete. Surely you're used to being naked
around other people," she said.
"Well, yeah, but...it's around other guys in the locker room," he said.
"Come now, are you telling me that none of the cheerleaders have been
privileged to feast their eyes on that magnificent physique?"
He dropped his head, blushing. "Well, yeah, that...but this is different."
"Just pretend I'm one of those cheerleaders and I've sneaked into the
locker room, are you going to make a dash for your clothes?"
"Well...no," he said.
"Wonderful." She motioned for him to undress.
He took his time, every move precise, obviously stalling. Finally he stood
before he in all his glory. She was elated to see him naked and hired him
on the spot. I asked her if I could come with him and sit in on his first
session and she agreed.
"Are you ready for this?" I asked him as we drove to the studio on campus.
"I don't know...I'm nervous," he said.
"You have nothing to be nervous about. You'll make a perfect model. Just
keep your mind on the money."
He was so nervous he broke out in a sweat as he was undressing. But Zoe put
him at ease as she was standing, waiting to take his shorts. He pulled them
off and handed them to her to put with the rest of his clothes.
"Now, just imagine that you're walking into the locker room full of
cheerleaders," she whispered.
He was still red in the face nervous. "Okay, but...well, we never talked
about it what if I...you know...get excited in front of everybody."
She glanced down at his manhood with a smile. "I'm sure they would be
delighted if that happens. Don't worry about it. They're drawing the human
form, and you are the epitome of that...in whatever form your body decides
to present itself."
"Okay," he said, shaking his head.
Zoe and I watched him walk into the room and take his place on the
platform.
"My Godd! Does he have a clue?" she said.
"No," I said.
We heard soft gasps and whispers and an Ohh, My Godd when Brian appeared.
He struck a relaxed pose, looking rather coyly to the side.
"He's good," Zoe said.
The experience not only brought in some much-needed cash, it also made
Brian more aware of his sexuality. He made good tips.
I caught him practicing some poses one day in front of the mirrors in the
locker room after he had showered. His body was still wet and glistened in
the soft light from the naked overhead bulbs. He jumped when he heard me
and quickly grabbed his towel.
"I thought I was alone," he said, embarrassed, as he began drying off.
"No need to be embarrassed, Brian, its not like I've never seen you naked
before," I said. "Besides if you're self-conscious in front of me, how the
hell do you pose naked in front of a whole class?"
The incident opened up a new avenue of communication between us, which
eventually led to my seduction of him one late afternoon after school. It
happened as if it'd been well planned out; even choreographed. He came into
my office to ask me something, still drying off, and I couldn't help
looking at his big cock, so fluffed up from his shower and the way it was
swinging around, I made a remark.
"Damn, you could put an eye out with that thing, Brian," I said.
"Only if you're down where I would hit you in the face with it," he said.
I was taken aback by his boldness, and I think it surprised him too. He
seemed to know what I was thinking. The moment that followed was an
electrifying one and drew us together like a magnet.
"Zoe's right about you," I said.
"Right about what?" he asked.
"You don't have a clue about yourself."
"What about me?"
"I could tell you...you're so naïve...I could better show you."
"Show me what?'
"Did you lock the door?" I asked.
"No. But I will." He walked off with the towel slung at his side to lock
the door. I heard the click and he came back, his big cock swinging
beautifully. He paused in front of his locker, unsure what to do; maybe
unsure what I would show him. I walked over and straddled the bench in
front of his locker.
"Be careful, don't put my eye out," I said huskily.
He took a step to close the short distance between us and I was face to
face with his gorgeous manhood; so close I could feel the heat of it. I
ended up sucked his cock that afternoon; giving him his first
blowjob. That's all it was for him; raw, raging sex and he couldn't get
enough of it. It snowballed fast. He didn't make any demands of me, but he
was horny for a blowjob every day of the week and we had to move it to my
apartment. I passed it off as tutoring him in history for anyone who asked
or wondered.
I loved having sex with Brian but I longed for Zack and wondered constantly
how he was doing. I decided to pay him a visit. I was dubious about
surprising him but I wanted to find whatever I might find. I left after
school on a Friday and drove the six hours to where he went to college. I
searched for his address among the rows of dormitories but there was no
such address. I finally asked at a gas station and got directions. He
wasn't living in the dorm. He lived in a large three-story brownstone in a
very nice neighborhood. I had butterflies in my stomach as I knocked on the
door. It wasn't Zack who answered the door, but a tall, lean-muscled youth
wearing onionskin running shorts and sneakers. His body was ripped and
glistening with sweat. His dark eyes danced as he opened the door.
"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?"
"I was looking for Zack Mitchell," I said.
"Zack's gone to work. I was just getting ready to shower and get dressed
and go down to the club," the youth said. "Are you his uncle? I know you're
not his dad."
"No, I'm...I'm just an old friend. We met at one of his wrestling matches,"
I said.
"Conroy? Jack Conroy?" he asked with a wide smile.
"Yes."
"Zack's talked a lot about you. Come on in. You can come down to the club
with me. He'll be glad to see you."
"I wasn't sure...I didn't let him know I was coming."
"I'm Aaron," he said, putting out his hand.
We shook hands and I watched his muscular arms flex. I had a tough time
keeping my eyes off his abs. And his tiny shorts bulged out nicely in front
and he had terrific thighs. He excused himself and went to shower while I
wondered about Zack and this incredibly handsome, built young stud he was
obviously living with. I also wondered about the apartment. It didn't fit
the mold of poor, struggling college students. Aaron came out wearing pale
yellow shorts, very short, and a dark blue body-fit knit shirt that hugged
his body like a second skin, and hiking boots and a baseball cap. He almost
took my breath away, and I could only imagine how it would be to see Zack
again. We drove in Aaron's car to the club, wherever it was; whatever it
was. I didn't ask what kind of club it was; I would find out soon
enough. Located on the very edge of town, the place was called BS. The
entrance was down a dimly lit alley.
"The BS stands for babes and studs," Aaron explained as he led me down the
alley. "It's pretty risqué for a town this size, but it is a college town,
and it's tucked away down here in the warehouse district where it won't
cause the locals any embarrassment. Actually, it's out of the city limits."
Inside the music was loud, with a deep, throbbing beat. It was packed with
college kids, plus a few older men, like myself, and some, male and female
alike, who, up close, didn't look like they were old enough to be
there. Aaron led me through the crowd toward the bar. I wondered, then, if
Aaron was old enough to drink, or Zack. Aaron wedged in between someone to
order drinks without asking me what I wanted. I looked around for Zack,
expecting that maybe he was tending bar. It took a few minutes for my eyes
to get used to the soft but intense lighting and I didn't see him
anywhere. Maybe he was operating the lights, and there was the mist of
smoke from one of those machines.
"What does Zack do here?" I asked. "Is he a bartender, on break or
something?"
"No, he's working right now," Aaron said, nodding toward the back of the
huge, darkened room.
I saw the cage, then, suspended down from the ceiling just high enough so
people couldn't reach it. I couldn't make out features, but there was a
very shapely woman dancing in a thong and pasties. covered with a thin
negligee-type thing and an equally shapely male in crew socks and very
brief, tight boxers. He was behind her, twisting and grinding his hips and
shoulders to the beat of the music as he ran his hands up and down her
body. "That's Zack?" I asked, after gulping down my surprise.
"Yeah, let's try to get closer. He probably can't see you, but you'll be
able to recognize him."
I squeezed through the crowd behind Aaron to the back.
"I hope this doesn't offend you," Aaron said, turning around. "Maybe I
shouldn't have brought you here."
"No, it doesn't offend me at all," I assured him.
We managed to squeeze in along the back wall where I could watch Zack and
the woman going at it. Now and then he would press himself against her and
twist around like he was fucking her from behind. The thought crossed my
mind that perhaps Zack had found himself and not crossed to my side of the
fence after all.
"The place started out as a strip club but the female students complained
about their boyfriends bringing them here and having to watch other
women. So they have male and female dancers now, so it attracts everybody;
something for everybody," Aaron explained.
Aaron stayed with me for a few minutes then saw someone he knew and excused
himself. I was in my own little world, standing down in the shadows
watching the gorgeous young stud do his sexy, sensual moves. I could feel
the tingling in my loins; dam, I hoped I didn't get a hardon. But then,
what would it matter? I waved up at the cage a couple of times but he
didn't see me. He seemed to be too preoccupied with dancing to notice
anybody, and the lights were on him. They did a couple more numbers before
there was a break in the music. Zack helped the girl out of the cage and
other eager, willing hands reached to help her down the ladder to the
floor. There were some eager and willing hands reaching out to help Zack
too when he came down the ladder. He was surrounded by admirers, male and
female alike, complimenting his body, his dancing, and grabbing quick feels
of his muscles.
"Hey, Zack!" I called out.
He turned around when he heard my voice and I waved to him. He didn't see
who it was at first but we made our way through the people toward each
other till he recognized me.
"Jack!" he exclaimed happily. "Jack, it's great to see you!" He pushed
through and gave me a big, hard hug. I nearly fainted at the feel of his
warm, naked, smooth muscles against me, remembering that fantastic body in
bed. He pushed his way through the admiring, groping crowd to the back
where there was a little room, barely larger than a closet that was used as
a dressing room. He closed the door to the din of noise and hugged me
again.
"Man, it's great to see you!"
"It's great to see you. You look fantastic out there!" I said openly ogling
his mostly naked body. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything. I should have
called but I wanted to surprise you."
"What's to intrude on? I'm glad you came. I've got another set then I can
probably talk my way out of here," he said.
"Don't let me interrupt your work. I certainly don't mind watching," I said
with a wide grin. My eyes raked over him again. "Goddam, you look hot in
those boxer briefs."
"Last night I wore those shorts you gave me; the blue ones," he said. "They
always go over great."
"How do you manage to keep everything inside them?"
"So, you must have found my place and met Aaron. I guess he brought you
here."
"Yes, he seems like a nice guy."
"He's a great guy. You know, you said that I would find the right guy...or
the right guy would find me. Well, he did."
"I want to hear all about it," I said.
"Well, there's not as much to tell as you're thinking," he said. "But we'll
go into that later." Someone brought a cold drink in for Zack and another
beer for me.
"How did they know I was in here?" I asked.
"Aaron. He sent the beer in. He's leaving us alone. He's like that."
"Does he know...about how we met?" I asked.
"Yes, I've told him about you. We'll go into that later, too."
His break was a short one. I watched him through another long set, getting
hotter by the minute as I pictured and prayed that I could have that
gorgeous body writhing and twisting on top of me before the night
ended. Another male dancer took his place and Zack got dressed and we
left. Aaron left by himself and me with Zack. Aaron must have taken the
long way home.
"Give me a minute to shower," Zack said when we went in the door of their
apartment.
I was surprised and a little disappointed that he didn't invite me into the
shower with him, or at least into the bathroom. I almost went in anyway but
thought better of it. I didn't know enough about his life to be so
presumptuous. He came out a few minutes later, drying off. I stared at
him. I couldn't take my eyes off him and they kept focusing on his
manhood--that beautiful, huge, perfect manhood. I saw him notice and looked
away.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"It's okay to look," he said. "For you especially, it's okay to look. It's
part of my job, you might say, being ogled; it's what I get paid for.
"So, how are you affording this apartment?" I asked.
"Well, you could say I took your advice; I put my body to good use. I was
at the BS one night and one of the owners came up and asked if I would like
to be a dancer. I told him I would think about it and he approached me
again later in the evening and I told him, yeah, I would come by for an
audition. He told me I didn't need to audition; he said I could get up
there and start dancing right then and there if I wanted to."
"Did you?"
"No. I had to get used to the idea first. I didn't go back for several
days. But I finally decided to put my muscles to good use. I'm also models
for the arts classes," he went on.
I thought of Brian and the odd parallel between the two boys.
"So you didn't become an escort," I said, laughing.
"Yes and no. I ventured down that road a couple of times. The first time
turned out okay. It was with a younger guy, maybe your age, well-built and
good looking and he had a great sense of humor and I was completely at ease
with him. The second time was a nightmare. I responded to the guy's call,
and when I got to his hotel, there was this huge, fat guy at the door. He
looked like a beached whale when he lay on the bed. I almost panicked; I
couldn't go through with it. Finally, I let him suck my cock but that was
it. So I abandoned that profession for awhile."
"For awhile?"
"I get offers all the time at the club," he said. "It's a whole different
clientele and I can judge for myself on the spot whether I want to go with
them. It works out good. I don't end up with any more beached whales."
"I trust you are wrestling," I said.
"In season," he said. "Off season, I do private or exhibition wrestling."
"You'll have to explain that," I said.
"Well, I discovered that there are a lot of men over in Charlestown who
follow college wrestling and like to take advantage of the young college
guys. The owner of BS put me on to it. I get hired out by small, private
groups to do wrestling exhibitions with another wrestler. It usually ends
up naked and then goes from there. It pays dammed good. You take care of a
few of the guys, then there are always good tips. Then I get invited back
sometimes to do private wrestling, where one certain guy pays me to come to
his hotel room and wrestle him." He chuckled softly. "Its weird, I get paid
for beating somebody's ass."
"It sounds like you're doing very well for yourself," I said.
"It's getting me through college very nicely," he said. "I don't intend to
keep up the side jobs once I get my degree."
"Why not? It'll probably pay as much as what you're studying to be," I
said.
"That's what Aaron keeps telling me."
"Is Aaron?....we were going to talk about Aaron," I reminded him.
"We've only been together for a couple of months," Zack said. "By together,
I mean sharing the apartment. He thinks I'm straight."
"Is he straight?" I asked.
"Well, I think he is but on the other hand, I think he might be interested
in climbing over the fence, just to see if the grass is greener," he said.
"You've lived together for two months and you haven't taken him over the
fence?"
"It's coming. I told you I wouldn't know how to meet people for that."
"Does he know what you do at the club...I mean, as an escort, and the
private wrestling?"
"Yes, but he thinks...or pretends to think...it's all on the up and up."
"If he isn't straight, you are putting yourselves through an awful lot of
unnecessary pain and agony," I said.
"Well, I am still dating girls once in awhile," he said. "That's why he
thinks I'm straight."
"Zack, have you...I mean, you certainly seemed to be enjoying dancing with
that girl up in the cage. Have you found the path you want to take?"
"I enjoy it a lot. But I think I would enjoy dancing with a guy just as
much." he said.
"I think you two guys are wasting time," I said. "Hell, you ought to at
least come together just once so the air is cleared. Do you want me to make
that happen?"
Zack laughed. "I'm not even going to ask how you would do that."
"Well, when we met at the bed and breakfast, I had no expectations
whatsoever of ending up in bed with you," I said. "There's something I've
gotta ask you, Zack," I said.
"The answer is yes," he said with a knowing grin.
My eyes lit up even though I felt a twinge of disappointment. "That's
great! But it wasn't Aaron, was it?"
"No, it was a guy at the gym; another wrestler. I'd worn those blue shorts
you gave me and he made some remark about them; a jokingly derogatory
remark and I pretended to take offense. We started wrestling around like
guys will, and things got out of hand, and the next thing I knew he had me
spread-eagle across a bench, boring me a new asshole."
"He didn't rape you," I said.
"No, it wasn't rape. It was a fantasy come true. In fact, he used something
on my ass to deaden the pain. It was great. I've always wished it could've
been you, though."
"Me, too, but it wasn't the time," I said. "I told you it had to be in your
own time, with the right guy."
"You were right."
Aaron came in and we sat around and talked for a while. Then I remembered
the pictures. I got them out of my bag and gave them to Zack. He just
smiled and nodded his approval. Aaron reached for them.
"Wow! These are great!" he exclaimed. "Hey, we ought to frame this one," he
said, holding up the picture of Zack posing in his athletic jacket and
jockstrap, with his hands on his hips. "I've never seen this jockstrap," he
remarked.
"I don't have it anymore," Zack said. I wished he had said he'd given it to
me; that would've brought things out in the open, or at least raised
Aaron's suspicions. Toward evening the boys insisted I stay the night. When
it was time to go to bed, both boys, in turn, offered to sleep on the couch
and give me their bedroom. The moment was at hand. "I'm not taking your
beds," I said gruffly. Zack especially was insistent that I take his
bedroom.
"I'll take your bedroom if you guys share the other bedroom, that way
nobody has to sleep on the couch." I said it with the authority of a coach
in a tone that they didn't argue with. I went to bed but I couldn't
sleep. I lay there trying to imagine what might be happening in the next
room; listening for some sign that they had perhaps discovered their
secret. Of course, there was till the off chance that Aaron was, indeed,
straight, but that didn't mean he wouldn't want to have sex with Zack. I
finally dozed off and was lost to my exhaustion, till the respectable hour
of six-thirty. I blinked my eyes open to my new surroundings then got out
of bed and crept down to Zack's bedroom. The sight of the two boys in bed
took my breath away.
They lay entangled with Aaron spooned against Zack's backside, his arm over
his chest and his leg over Zack's thigh. They were both naked. There was a
towel on the floor along with a condom wrapper and a tube of lubricant on
the nightstand. Yes! Aaron had taken Zack again to that new frontier! One
of them stirred, and then the other and they came awake, stretching away
from each other. Aaron blinked with surprise at me standing there and
reached for the sheet but Zack held the sheet back.
"It's okay, he knows," he told Zack said.
"Oh. Oh, that's great," Aaron, said.
"You were right about everything, Jack," Zack said. "All I had to do was
wait."
"What're you talking about?" Aaron asked.
"He told me all I had to do was wait and be patient; the right guy would
come along." Aaron looked a little embarrassed and I still didn't know if
he was gay or if he was straight and liked having gay sex.
"Well, I, uh...I think I'll take a shower," he said as he got out of
bed. "You can have my place," he said to me.
I was startled by his remark.
"It's okay, we're not lovers...yet...and he told me about you and him. I
figure you two have got a lot of catching up to do."
I looked at a smiling Zack, who rolled over onto his stomach, clenching his
butt muscles. I crawled in bed with him, my cock already fluffing up. He
wanted me to fuck him!
"Come back after your shower," he told Aaron.
Aaron looked at me, as if for permission.
"Yes, come back and park that tight butt of yours on my face," I said. "And
I've never been in the middle of a sandwich," I added with a mischievous
grin.
"Didn't you tell me you wanted to try taking two guys at the same time,
just once?" Zack asked.
"I don't remember saying it, but yeah, I would like to try it," I said.
Aaron went to take his shower.
"If I was out of line...if you don't want to do it...no problem," Zack
said.
"No, I do. Maybe I did say it."
"Naw, you didn't," he said. "Aaron's pretty big. I'm bigger around, but
he's LONG. He's going to go in awfully deep."
Aaron came back refreshed and fluffed out. Zack and I were engaged in a
slurping, hungry sixty-nine.
"You started without me," Aaron said.
"We saved the main event for you," Zack said.
He had Zack's athletic jacket. "Here, wear this. You look study as hell in
it. Add a little jock mystique to it. And hey, do you guys mind if we video
it?"
I didn't mind. Zack didn't mind. We went back to sucking each other's cocks
while Aaron set up the video camera.
"You guys know I'm going to use this video at the collegiate film
festival," Aaron was saying. I didn't mind. Zack said he didn't mind, and
we went on sucking each other's cocks.
The End
(If you liked the story--or if you didn't--please rate it and leave your
comments. I would also appreciate hearing from you personally at
Peterbilt222@hotmail.com)